


You have Beautiful Wings

by Lancelot_of_the_revolutionary_set



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/F, I dont know how to tag things properly i'm sorry, Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, Really all of it's angst, abuse mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:16:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lancelot_of_the_revolutionary_set/pseuds/Lancelot_of_the_revolutionary_set
Summary: Thomas Jefferson is still waiting to find his soulmate. So many of his friends have, it's almost infuriating.When he finally does, it seems like the world is just out to get him. Alexander Hamilton would not have been his first choice.





	1. Hello, Alexander

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where everyone has wings, but only soulmates can see each other's

CHAPTER 1

What is it like to see an angel's wings?

It was simply a fact that wings grew from everyone's backs, each baby born with little feathery stumps sprouting from their shoulder blades. Well, factual enough, Thomas supposed. 

He'd never seen anyone's wings, and only occasionally caught glimpses of his. They were a pale pink color, as far as he could tell from those few moments when they'd stopped being translucent and came into full view. 

He knew he'd never see anyone else's wings, except for his "soulmate's". Thomas Jefferson, of all people, had a right to be skeptical. He was a bit late in the game really, to find a soulmate. Early-to-mid 20's or never at all was usually what happened, and just about everyone he'd grown up with was already living in apple-pie domestic bliss with whoever they claimed to see the wings of around the age of twenty or so.

Thirty was late, ten years or so too late. Whoever his "soulmate" was probably lived halfway across the world or somewhere longer than a two hour drive away, and he'd never even catch a glimpse of them. If soulmates really existed, of course. Maybe everyone just grew translucent wings and that was the end of it. 

He knew this wasn't the case, but he'd lost hope of ever finding his soulmate a while ago.

Still, just imagining the sight of those gorgeous feathery wings he'd read about in stories on somebody's back was enthralling. Thinking about someone out there meant to love him, someone he would undoubtedly love back. Completely unrealistic, he would often think, but still a lovely little idea.

It was a normal day when all that changed. Everything he'd believed for so long, just... gone.

Thomas woke up to the sound of his alarm clock buzzing, 7 AM like usual. He begrudgingly rolled out of bed, like usual. The dulled purple of his window curtains casting weird shadows over the room, his sleepy eyes glancing over his bedroom. It'd always looked so lonely ever since Martha.

He cast those thoughts out of his head with a scowl, no time for that then. He had to get ready for work.

His closet was filled with black and grey suits, most looking brand new because Thomas barely wore them. He preferred his same old magenta suit, he liked to think that it matched the color of his wings, no matter how invisible they were to other people. It was more symbolic than anything else.

Sometimes his friend James would swear he could see the vaguest outline of them when Thomas quickly moved from one spot to another, and maybe the slightest shade of pink. "Bullshit," Thomas would tell him, but sometimes if he stared hard enough at other people's backs he could just barely see the outline of transparent wings there, just maybe. 

He quickly pulled on the suit, fumbling with his tie for a moment before heading into the kitchen to fix some sort of breakfast. He glanced around the cupboard, deciding on a granola bar. The usual, since he barely had time to eat anything more than that most mornings. 

The drive to work was pretty average, and so was the elevator ride up to the third floor where his office was. All in all, pretty normal.

What _wasn't_ normal though, was the set of beautiful golden-yellow wings that he spotted as soon as he walked out of the elevator. They glowed with an aura Thomas couldn't have explained if anyone had asked him, one he most certainly had never seen before. They were ethereal, a sight that made him stop dead in his tracks.

What really shocked him though, was the realization that those wings were attached to his soulmate. He could only see the back of them at that moment, but it looked like they were standing beside George Washington, his boss. They had dark brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, and Thomas felt almost giddy as he walked up behind them.

"Ah, Mr. Jefferson!" Washington greeted once he spotted Thomas out of the corner of his eye, a welcoming smile on his face. Rather unusual for the stark and formal man, but Thomas didn't really pay that much attention. He was distracted by the man that stood beside his boss, who turned as well, making Thomas nearly gasp in surprise when he saw who it was. Alexander Hamilton, the infamous, the wicked- at least as he'd been told. He'd only seen him in the newspaper, the man having been featured in an article a few weeks before. 

Washington had hired him immediately once he'd heard Hamilton had quit from some other competing company, and supposedly the man was a genius and a remarkable employee. James Madison however, who had worked with Hamilton a couple years before, had told Thomas that the man was a nightmare. A genius, sure, but a nightmare nonetheless. Always arguing, never shutting up for one second, a nuisance most of the time. Stubborn too, apparently.

So imagine Thomas's surprise when that same man showed up with glowing wings on his back and a charming smile on his face. "Mr. Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton." He said politely, extending a hand for Thomas to shake.

Thomas blinked a couple times in surprise, but shook the hand with a slight nod and a wary gaze. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He replied with a forced smile, trying to take attention away from the quiver in his voice. It was a shock, that's what it was. Meeting his soulmate after all this time, and to have it be none other than Alexander Hamilton.

Washington chuckled slightly as he pat Hamilton on the shoulder, an act which the short man seemed less than thrilled by. "I need to be returning to my office now, but I'm sure Thomas here wouldn't mind showing you around, now would he?" He said, a slight pinch in his voice as he turned to look at Thomas. Clearly, it was not a suggestion.

"Uh- yes, of course, follow me." Thomas said quickly, giving Washington a polite smile before leading Hamilton away, towards the hallway where all the office doors were.a "Over here are the offices," he said in a drone, not really paying attention to what he was saying and focusing more on gazing over Hamilton.

He was handsome, let's just say. Dark hair and light brown eyes, a knowing smile on his face that would probably haunt Thomas's dreams that night. _His soulmate, his real, actual soulmate._

And _god_ , why didn't he just tell him? Stop him right there and say "hey, you're my soul mate". Was it just the shock of finding out? Was that it? Was he afraid that the man with the beautiful dark eyes and the knowing smile and those ethereal golden wings wouldn't know what he was talking about? Was he afraid that Alexander Hamilton didn't see any wings at all on Thomas, and would just politely tell him so, crushing his heart forever?

To put it frankly, yes.

\---

  Thomas had gotten used to seeing Hamilton around the office without completely blanking and turning into a stuttering mess. It had taken a couple days, but he'd managed. It was made a lot harder once Hamilton had decided he hated Thomas with the very core of his being, but he still managed.

Let me explain- it was around the second day that the two had started arguing non-stop. They had disagreed so severely in their first company meeting together that Washington had to separate them once the volume had reached ear-splitting levels. 

"This is not the time or place for this kind of yelling!" The man had said finally, slamming his fist down on the table to silence the two. That had definitely caught their attention. 

"But sir- my plan makes so much more sense than anything this idiot said! He wants to cut people, _hard-working employees_ , simply because we're in a little debt! There are other solutions that don't involve taking jobs away from people!" Hamilton argued, glaring over at Thomas as he spoke. "The financial system for this company needs to be reevaluated, and pushing away the problems with temporary solutions won't solve anything!"

"How hard working someone might be is irrelevant to the problem, Hamilton! Would you rather lay some people off or be swamped in debt? Do you honestly have a better solution, or are you just talking out of your ass?" Thomas retorted with barely-controlled raged, not accustomed to his ideas being questioned in such an angry manner. It looked like Hamilton wanted to rip him to shreds and set fire to his remains. "Besides, you've been here barely two days, what kind of authority do you think you have that gives you the right to make such accusations?"

The two continued to argue back and forth until Washington had finally gotten a headache and silenced them again.

The other members of the company board looked uncomfortable, to say the least. They weren't used to meetings being this loud, or angry. Usually someone would come up with a plan or a solution and that was the end of it.

George leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers in an attempt to calm himself down. "Fine, Hamilton is right. Thomas, your idea was fine but it _is_ just a temporary solution." He sighed, placing his hands back on the table before him.

"But sir-" Thomas tried to protest before Washington cut him off. 

"No buts, my decision on the matter is final. Meeting adjourned." He said firmly, standing up from his seat, the rest of the board members doing the same. They shuffled out the door quickly and without much noise, although Charles Lee might have muttered something about "being part of a publishing company never used to be so dramatic", which wasn't unusual for him.

So, obviously after that fiasco, it didn't look like they'd be the best of friends any time soon.

God, did the situation break Thomas's heart. He should've just told him from the start, should've looked him in the face and said it, but it was too late. Too late to tell him he was probably in love with him after only knowing him for a week or so. Too late to tell him how beautiful his wings were.

But it wasn't only that his supposed-to-be soulmate hated him- _no_ , life just wasn't that kind. The universe just had to make him charming, and handsome, and not to mention practically a genius. As long as he could hold a pen he could do anything. His words were entrancing, not only in the way he wrote but the way he spoke as well.

He was, for lack of a better word, wonderful.

And he hated Thomas's guts.

\---  
    
They were having a particularly heated argument a couple months after the first day Hamilton had started working there, getting a collective groan from their co-workers around the office. This happened regularly enough that they were just begrudgingly used to it by then.

"Oh for god's sake, shut up!" Angelica Schuyler finally yelled, leaning out of her office door to give the two arguing men a death stare. Number one rule of the office; don't mess with Schuyler, no matter how annoying a certain dark haired man with golden wings might be. 

"Schuyler, I'm surprised, wouldn't have thought you'd take his side on this." Hamilton replied, winking flirtatiously. He did that sometimes, try to charm his way out of situations. The even more annoying thing was, it usually worked.

Not with Angelica, though.

"I'm not taking Jefferson's side, I'm telling you to shut the hell up. What are you even arguing about, did one of you step on the others shoelace or something?" She chided dryly, rolling her eyes at the wink.

"As a matter of fact-" Hamilton replied, glaring over at Thomas before he was cut off.

"You pushed me down the fucking stairs!" Thomas yelled, taking a step towards him with his fists clenched. This idiotic, arrogant, terror of a man couldn't possibly be his fucking soulmate, and yet-

Alexander's wings spread out behind him, making it seem like he was about to fly away any minute. This always happened when he was angry or upset, Thomas had noticed. Maybe he spent just a little too much time staring at those wings. They flushed a dark orange color, the soft feathers bristling on his back. Thomas was mesmerized for a moment before he was snapped back to reality by his soulmate yelling at him.

"I didn't push you down the stairs," Hamilton growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You tripped and fell like the dumbass you are, and you didn't even get that hurt so I don't really see the problem-"

" _Enough!_ " Angelica finally said as she stepped between the two men so they couldn't maul each other. "This is possibly the stupidest fight you two have ever gotten in, and you have gotten into some stupid fights, trust me. You need to stop this, or else you'll drive the rest of us mad or get yourselves fired." She warned, stepping back after the two seemed to have calmed down a bit.

"You can't deny that this is a serious offense to workplace behavior regulations, pushing a co-worker isn't just something you can brush off-" Thomas began to speak before Angelica glared at him again, shaking her head in disdain.

"I'm gonna go get work done now, if you two wouldn't mind keeping it down." She huffed finally, stepping back into her office and nearly slamming the door.

"I can't believe her, acting as if she's our babysitter," Hamilton grumbled, still glaring half-heartedly at Thomas. The virginian was about to nod in agreement when he felt the air shift from behind, as if someone had suddenly stepped in back of him.

"It seems that she needs to, as you two can barely be in the same room without having a tantrum." A voice said from behind them, nearly causing Hamilton to jump.

"Sir," Thomas squeaked, turning around in surprise. George Washington was the only person he wasn't naturally smooth around- the man had a stern air, one you really didn't want to mess with. It was kind of ironic, actually, given that his personality was more begrudgingly tired than authoritative.

"Your two need to figure this out, immediately," Washington stated firmly, glaring down at the two men. Thomas was 6'2 and George still seemed to tower over him, even though he was barely an inch taller. "You both have some extra work to do, considering you waste so much time arguing." Hamilton was about to protest, but George shot him a look that quickly shut him up. 

"Jefferson lives closest, so why don't you both go over to there to finish up your reports, that way the rest of the office's ears won't start bleeding from your yelling." The tall man suggested, although it felt more like an order.

"But sir, I don't think-" Thomas began, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a stubborn manner. There was no way he was letting Hamilton inside his home. 

"It's been decided, Jefferson- now head out, both of you, unless you'd like to be fired." George said firmly, squaring his jaw as he did. He turned on his heel, starting to walk away in the direction of his office.

"Alright, _sir_." Hamilton sneered mockingly once Washington had walked out of earshot, rolling his eyes. "So, where do you live?" He asked, turning to Thomas with a raised eyebrow. 

"You're not serious, right? We're not really going to go to my house to work and become 'BFFs' or whatever Washington wants us to do." Thomas replied with a scoff, nudging Hamilton in the side. It's not like he really minded spending time with Alexander -he was his soulmate after all- but all they did was argue, and that was never much fun.

"But we can't disobey direct orders, he said he'll /fire/ us. Can that get through that thick skull of yours or do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't have to know we don't both go to my house. You can go back to yours and I can go over to mine to finish our work, he'll be none the wiser." Thomas answered before his phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out to find Washington's contact there with a message. 

Everyone who worked in the office was supposed to have each other's number in their phone in case they needed to contact each other. "If you try and ditch each other and go to separate houses, I will know" Thomas read out in a mumble, cursing under his breath. 

"Well I guess your plans are foiled." Alex chuckled, smirking up at Thomas. "Don't look so smug, this just means you have to stay at my house for the rest of the day." Thomas replied, glaring at him in an amused sort of way. That wiped the smirk off Hamilton's face real quick.

"Well I guess we better get going then," Alex grumbled, tugging on Thomas's arm to lead him toward the elevator.

"Yeah, I guess." He muttered, following Hamilton reluctantly. It was going to be a long day.

\---

Thomas unlocked the door to his house, allowing Hamilton to step inside before closing the door. It was a pretty nice place, if he did say so himself, but you can't really blame if he was a bit nervous for Alexander to see it.

"Nice place, big. I suppose you have a girlfriend living here with you?" Hamilton asked casually, although it was almost painfully obvious he was very aware of his question.

"No, no... I- uh, I live alone." Thomas said, his cheeks red. This was the exact kind of topic he didn't want to get into, especially with his soulmate standing right there in front of him. 

"Why, does your soulmate have their own house?" Alexander asked, again trying to sound casual. He glanced around the small entrance way, a door way leading into the rest of the house. The living room was the first room once you stepped inside, the kitchen separated from that by a little marble-top counter. 

"No, I don't- I mean, well... um-" Thomas stuttered, his mind blanking. Shit. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to lie to him? "I- uh, haven't found my soulmate yet." he answered finally, shrugging his shoulders so Alexander wouldn't think it was a big deal.

Lying to Alexander felt so wrong, but what was he supposed to do? Tell him what color his wings were and confess undying love? All that would get him was probably a very loud yell from Hamilton and possibly a restraining order, and that was if he was lucky.

"So, have _you_ found your soulmate yet?" Thomas asked, trying to take attention away from his own insecurities. He was also kind of hoping the answer was no, that maybe he could still be with Alex. Maybe.

"What, no! I mean-" Alexander sputtered, his face flushing red. "What the hell kind of question is that?" His wings arched defensively, an angry frown making its way onto his face. The wings' golden aura flared, producing an almost red-orange hue.

"Why would you ask me about my soulmate then, Hamilton?" Thomas asked bitterly, glaring at him. He wanted to be angry, he really really wanted to be angry at this insufferable asshole that stood before him, but mostly he was just sad. Sad that this was the relationship he'd made with the man who was supposed to be his soulmate.

"I didn't mean... just forget it." Hamilton said finally, a cold anger in his tone.

 " _Alright_ then," Thomas muttered, stepping into his living room and waiting for Hamilton to follow. He couldn't wait for the evening to be over.

He led him to the study, passing a couple doors and the hallway that led to his bedroom. He opened the door, revealing a mostly empty room with a couple half-filled bookshelves, a desk, and a computer sitting on that desk. Thomas nodded for Alexander to step inside, moving over to sit at the desk to the side of the room.

"I assume you brought your laptop with you?" He asked, glancing down at the bag Alexander carried at his side. 

Alex pulled out his computer and set it on the desk, pulling over a chair so he could sit beside Thomas to work. Being this close was a bit unnerving for Thomas, especially with Alexander's giant golden wings fanned out behind him, but he could survive it.

Both too uncomfortable to say anything that might set the other off, they typed on their respective computers in silence for about three or four hours before Thomas finally stopped tapping at the keys, looking up with a satisfied smile. 2,500 words wasn't half bad for four hours work, and once he proofread through everything he'd be all set. 

"What have you got?" He asked after a moment, leaning over the desk to look at Alexander's computer screen, causing the man to shoot him an annoyed look. Any interaction between them seemed to be one of annoyance and/or deeply rooted hatred, so this wasn't that surprising.

"I'm just typing up my plan for the new company financial system," Alexander replied in a grumble, glancing over at Thomas's computer. "What are you doing?"

"Oh," Thomas murmured quietly, quickly looking back to his own computer. He didn't want to start any more fights about what the company should do about their financial trouble, especially not in his own damn home. "I'm writing up a few reports for Washington."

"Well I'm almost done and it looks like you're finishing up, so should I go?" Alex asked, clearly uncomfortable being inside his self-proclaimed enemy's house. Thomas couldn't blame him, he was rather uncomfortable with him there as well. 

But at the same time, also glad.

"No, you don't have to," Thomas replied quickly before realising how strange that must have sounded and cringing, shaking his head slightly. "That's not what I mean, it's- uh, it's just getting a bit late and I'm sure you'll burn your house down before you make a decent meal, so why don't you stay for dinner?"

Alexander gave him a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Are you actually inviting me to stay for dinner or just looking for a way to make fun of my cooking skills?"

"I'm actually inviting you to stay for dinner you absolute ass, now come on, you can help me by getting the ingredients from the fridge while I prepare things." Thomas replied with a roll of his eyes, getting up from his spot at the desk and nodding towards the door. "Or you could stay in the chair and rot, up to you, really." He commented dryly when Alex didn't budge from his seat.

Alexander just sat there for a moment, looking surprised and mildly amused that he was about to have dinner with Thomas Jefferson, his enemy, a man he'd despised since the very first day they'd met.

"Come on _fat ass_ , get up from the chair and get a move-on!" Thomas grumbled after another moment of silence, grabbing Alexander's arm and pulling him up from the chair.

"I thought it was up to me if I wanted to rot in the chair or not," Alexander scoffed, glaring at Thomas pointedly as he was led out of the study and into the hallway. Thomas, however, didn't care one bit about the angry expression.

"Its called sarcasm, darlin', ever hear of it?" The southern man replied sarcastically, looking down at Alex with an unamused expression as they made their way into his kitchen. It was a fairly nice one, all the stuff looking at least semi-new and polished. The glossy marble countertops really gave the "I'm low-key rich and really want you to know" impression.

"So, what are you making?" Alexander asked, tapping his fingers against the counter.

"Macaroni and cheese, otherwise known as God's one true gift to humanity," Thomas replied with a grin, rummaging around his pantry closet for a box of cavatappi noodles. "Could you get me the raclette and parmesan from the fridge?"

Alexander looked at him like he was insane. "What the fuck is raclette?"

"It's a cheese, now go get it without asking any more annoying questions." Thomas replied with a scoff, shooing Hamilton in the direction of the fridge with his free hand as he reached up to grab the box of pasta from the second highest shelf. He knew Alexander was no gourmet cook, but he should've at least understood what raclette was.

He walked over to get a pot as he waited for Alex to get the cheeses from the fridge, filling it with water and setting it on the stove to simmer. 

"This 'raclette' cheese better not taste like ass, Jefferson." Alexander warned, setting the cheese on the marble counter top. 

"It won't, trust me." He replied, not taking Alex's bait. That was usually how all their debates and arguments started, some offhand comment that turned into a yelling match.

Alexander raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Apparently he didn't want to get into an argument either.

"Alright, so I'm just gonna let the water heat for a bit, and then I'll put in the noodles.." Thomas mumbled, taking a seat on one of the stools that stood in front of the counter. 

Alex stood next to a stool for a couple moments looking uncomfortable, looking like he didn't know if he should sit or not. He finally decided to sit on the one next to Thomas, although he still looked rather sheepish, which was unusual from what Thomas had seen of him.

Alexander's wings fluttered slightly when he sat down, their golden yellow color still dazzling Thomas even after having to look at them five days a week for several months. There were guide books and other shit like that about finding your soulmate, and what to do once you did, and Thomas was sure what he'd done was not even slightly suggested in any of them.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Alex coughed, averting his eyes, and it was at that point that Thomas realized he'd been staring. His face flushed from the realization, quickly averting his eyes as well.

"So..." Alex mumbled after a couple seconds, still not meeting his eyes. 

"So." Thomas replied simply, not really knowing what to say, and- wait... was Alex blushing as well?

Another awkward silence.

"What's your favorite book?"

Thomas looked up, surprised at the sudden talking. "What?"

"What's your favorite book?" Alexander asked again, leaning his arm on the counter. "We passed like two giant bookcases on the way to your office, and there were at least two more in there, but they're all almost empty. What's your favorite book?"

"That's the worst question I have ever heard in my life." He replied plainly, rolling his eyes. "It's Harry Potter, book four." He admitted in a mumble under his breath, slightly embarrassed.

Alex snorted. "What was that?"

"Harry Potter, you absolute asshole." Thomas growled, speaking louder this time as he glared at the unbearable man sitting next to him.

"You are a nerd! Thomas Jefferson is a nerd!" Alexander laughed, grinning as if this was the best news he'd ever heard in his life. "Oh Lord, this is too rich! Did you dress up in a little Harry Potter costume when you were a kid? Please tell me you did, I want pictures."

"I was twelve when those books came out, I didn't dress up in any costumes. Sorry to disappoint." Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I think its time to put in the pasta." He grumbled under his breath as he slid off his stool, stepping over to the stove and opening the box of noodles to pour them into the pot.

"You're such a party-pooper, Jefferson, can't handle a little light-hearted teasing." Alexander snickered, putting a hand over his mouth to cover up his laughter. "How soon will that infamous mac-n-cheese of yours be ready?"

"It's not infamous, and soon." A slightly annoyed Thomas replied, his nostrils flaring as he turned back to Alex. He brushed back a loose curl form his face, sniffing slightly as he looked back at the staring Alexander. "What are you looking at, Hamilton?"

Alex blushed bright red, something that made Thomas raise an eyebrow. Why was he staring at him?

"Nothing," Alex muttered quickly, averting his gaze. He seemed to do that a lot when Thomas was around and they weren't arguing.

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove to check on the noodles. They seemed good to go, so he pulled out a glass baking pan from the little storage area beneath the stove. "Hey, could you go get some cooking spray for the pan?"

"Sure thing, Thomas."

It took Thomas about 2.5 seconds to realize that Alexander had just called him by his first name, and about twice that long for Alexander to. Thomas caught the short man looking back at him with wide eyes, his face unmistakably flushed. He didn't say anything however, so neither did Thomas.

Alexander grabbed the cooking spray from the cupboard, handing it to Thomas without meeting his eyes. "There you go." He mumbled, going back to his seat by the counter.

Thomas shook off the strange occurrence, grimacing slightly when he realized what a shock it was to hear his soulmate call him by his first name. His own soulmate didn't even know him on first-name basis. Well, didn't before that evening.

He sprayed the pan with the spray, dumping the noodles from the pot onto it. He'd already pre-heated the oven, so all he needed to do was put on some cheeses and spices and it'd be done in 20 minutes at most.

Thomas dumped a bunch of parmesan on top, to which Hamilton protested ["How much fucking cheese do you need?!"], Thomas ignoring his complaining. He grated some raclette on top and added a few spices, finally opening the oven door and sliding the macaroni dish in.

"This'll be done in around 20 minutes, so what do you want to do in the meanwhile?"

"Well, we could sit in silence for 20 minutes." Alexander replied, although it was hard to tell wether he was sarcastic or not. "I'm gonna go get my laptop, I've still got some stuff I need to do." He decided after a moment, abandoning the sarcasm and sliding off the chair to go get his computer.

The short man came back within a moment or so, and Thomas, who had pulled out his phone, looked up from the screen and smiled slightly when he saw him come back. He quickly realized it wasn't normal for him to smile when Hamilton walked into a room, so he looked down again and hoped Alex hadn't caught it.

Alexander immediately sat down and started typing again, his fingers flying over the keys like lightning. This wasn't something new to Thomas, after all the times the man had yelled him down for bothering him while he worked. Alexander Hamilton typed (and talked) a mile a minute, and it was rather fascinating.

Thomas suddenly felt a pang of regret in his chest, frowning slightly. Why would such a brilliant man want to be with him, even if by some miracle he was his soulmate. Maybe Thomas would just be stuck pining for the rest of his life, knowing full well Alexander was probably off doing better things than sticking around with his sorry ass.

All his thoughts led him back to those gorgeous golden wings on Alexander's back. Those stupid, awful wings. They were the root of this! This unhappiness! What had he ever done to deserve this? Sure, he wasn't the best person, and of course he'd made mistakes, but he didn't deserve this.

He sighed quietly, looking down at the ground. It was hopeless, wasn't it?

Thomas noticed out of the corner of his eyes Alexander's wings' golden aura flaring. He looked up to find Alex staring at him.

"I think the oven timer went off."

"What?" Had it really been 20 minutes? He made a mental note not to get so caught up in his thoughts when other people were around.

"The timer went off, dumb ass. Go check on the macaroni so it doesn't burn." Alex replied, an annoyed pinch to his voice. His foot kept tapping against the leg of the stool, something that Thomas took as a sign of unrest.

He got up from his seat after shooting a glare towards Alex, walking over to the oven and opening the door. The macaroni looked cooked enough, so he pulled it out and set it on the stove.

"How about you get some plates, since you seem in such a hurry to eat." Thomas sneered in Hamilton's direction, still ticked off about Alex acting so annoyed at him. They were in his own god damn house, he shouldn't have had to put up with the man's insufferable whining. He watched as Alex stood up from the stool, raising an indignant eyebrow when he saw him cast a glare his way.

Alexander got two plates from a cupboard, walking over to the table on the other side of the kitchen and setting them down. Thomas had a dining room, but he usually only used it when he had a lot of guests over.

The Virginian set the macaroni dish down on the table, pulling over two chairs and taking a seat in one of them.

Alex stood uncomfortably for a moment before sitting as well, pulling the dish closer to his plate so he could serve himself. "Thanks for letting me stay for dinner by the way, you didn't have to." He mumbled. The words sounded awkward in his mouth, as if he was just as surprised to say it as Thomas was to hear it.

"Uh- no problem." Thomas replied, stuttering for a moment but quickly regaining his composure. That evening had been just plain /weird/, so why should he be so shocked that Hamilton was actually being nice to him? It wasn't any stranger than having the man standing in the middle of his house.

Once Alexander had finished serving himself, Thomas reached over to bring the dish closer so he could do the same. The growing silence between the two wasn't uncomfortable, but wasn't exactly normal either. In all truth, when they weren't arguing or teasing or mocking one another, Thomas wasn't really sure what to say.

They ate in silence for the most part, although Thomas didn't mind too much. With Alexander was distracted with the food it was easier to look at him and his wings without being caught, something he felt slightly ashamed of doing. If he couldn't grow up and just tell the man they were soulmates, what right did he have to look at him with that cursed longing?

Thomas sighed quietly. He'd find himself stewing in his thoughts more often than not lately. Was this what it was like to find your soulmate? Be haunted by dreams of golden wings and broken smiles, soft words and gentle touches. All of these things coming from a man who supposedly despised him?

He took a bite of macaroni, although he didn't find as much joy in his favorite food as usual. Glancing up again, a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he gazed at Alexander's wings. They fluttered effortlessly at his back, an eye-catching sight if there ever was one. It put a bitter taste in Thomas's mouth.

Or maybe that was the macaroni.

"I can see you looking at me, you know."

Thomas's eyes widened in surprise at the words, snapping out of whatever trance those wings put him in. "I'm sorry, what?" He asked, trying to act like he didn't know what Alex meant.

"You were staring at me... with a pretty disgusted face as well." Alexander replied, his facial expression surprising Thomas. It wasn't anger or suspicion, more resembling self-consciousness than anything else.

"I-" Thomas tried to respond, looking for an explanation that didn't include /wings/ and /soulmate/. "I wasn't staring at you specifically, I was just thinking. Got lost in my thoughts." He decided on, thinking that that was at least partly true.

"Oh." Alex replied simply, looking back down at his plate. It was empty, which officially meant there was nothing keeping him there and he could leave, and Thomas definitely noticed.

The bitter taste returned to his mouth.

"You should probably get going, you've still got a little work to catch up on, right?" Thomas suggested despite himself. He regretted it even as he was saying it, but there was no point trying to keep Alex there if he didn't want to be.

"Yes, uh- right." Alexander agreed, although he looked more disappointed than Thomas had expected. Either way, the short man stood up from the table and grabbed his bag and laptop from where he left them on the counter. 

Thomas followed him to the front hallway, watching a bit sadly as Alex stepped out the door. He raised an eyebrow when the man paused, leaving the door open a crack and glancing back at him. "Goodbye Thomas." Alexander said quietly, quickly stepping out into the late evening.

That left Thomas standing there confused, confused at what it could mean- or if it meant anything at all.

"Goodbye Alexander." He murmured softly to himself, sighing quietly and walking back into his living room.


	2. Red Party Cups Suck Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton's New year's eve party is not what is expected

Thomas severely doubted there was anything more boring than a New Year’s party, besides maybe not going to a New year’s party on a plan-less Friday night. Sitting around in Alexander Hamilton’s livingroom with a bunch of half-drunken adults in their early-to-late 30’s had to be better than doing the same thing at home. Well, same except not as many depressed half-drunken adults. And no Alexander.  
Mainly just the sitting around bit was the same.

That… that had to better, right?

This was the main question Thomas asked himself as he sat around in the middle of the living room, not really half drunk but not entirely sober. He was holding a red cup half filled with some sort of alcohol, because why the fuck not.  
He was never really one to play into the “drink to numb the pain” trope, and even though it was New Years and his soulmate had invited him to a party even with the fact they’d been nearly-almost-but-not-quite-kinda enemies ever since they’d met and he was completely overwhelmed with the surrealism of it all, he didn’t really feel the need to drown his sorrows in whatever crappy booze Hamilton had stocked in the cupboard that hadn’t already been chugged.

That kind of jokey alcoholism was definitely an “other people” kinda thing in his mind. Other people drank to forget, other people loved New Year’s, other people found these parties fun, other people would’ve refused the invitation, other people got drunk and confessed their feelings, other people would have told their soulmates the truth from the very fucking beginning and wouldn’t be having an existential crisis in the middle of said soulmate’s goddamn living room like a fool, like an absolute shitty fool.

Thomas... Thomas wasn’t “other people”, he guessed. God that sounded fucking pretentious, but it was kinda true. To him, at least. Everyone thinks they’re special.

He sighed quietly to himself, dejectedly shaking his head as he stood up from his seat to throw the red plastic solo cup away. Hopefully along with all the other unwanted thoughts that kept pouring into his brain whenever he was around anything even remotely having to do with Alexander.

The remnants of the party lay all around the small apartment; half-empty cups, crumbling bits of food, chip bags, along with actual people. John Laurens was passed out on the couch, presumabky going to be gathered up by Gilbert de blah blah whatever Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan once the two finished drunkenly making out in the guest room. Aaron Burr and James Madison had been around until a little while before, when they had both left the party quietly, almost unnoticeable. Thomas didn’t blame them; it hadn’t been a particularly good party, even before people had started passing out.

Everyone that’d been at the party had either left, passed out, or been dragged off to an Uber by a more sober friend. The only person that wasn’t accounted for, actually, was Alexander.

“Bastard can’t just throw a party and then disappear for the rest of it.” Thomas grumbled to himself, not really upset at Alex, moreso at the fact he hadn’t gotten a chance to see or talk to him. He’d… well, he’d been kinda looking forward to that, no matter how pitiful and ridiculous that was.

Thomas shook his head, curly hair falling into his face, too preoccupied with his thoughts to brush it away or even care. He breathed out slowly, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down and dismiss the nagging feeling.

Funny, he never really thought he’d describe not seeing Hamilton as “dreadful” before.

Beyond his closed eyelids, the lights flicked off in the livingroom. He opened them just in time to see Laurens being lead out the door of the apartment by both Gilbert and Mulligan. He noticed that (thankfully) Gil was calling a cab. None of the three were in the right shape to be driving.

And that left him all by himself.

At Alexander’s house.

By himself at Alexander’s house.

He suddenly felt kinda nauseous.

Thomas stood up, deciding he’d use the bathroom and then leave. It was late, the party was over, there was no real reason for him to stay. It was kind of pathetic that he was still there, actually. Really, really pathetic-

Shaking his head again, he made his way down the hall, which was right near where the living room ended and the kitchen began. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, as Thomas had noticed earlier. He was gonna step inside and close the door to throw up in the toilet when he smelled something particularly awful.  
He leaned forward a bit to investigate, one foot still in the hall. Y,know, in case it was like a chopped off hand or something and he wanted to get out of there quick.

Luckily, no dead hand. Looked like someone beat him to the “vomit in the toilet” idea though.

Thomas grimaced, ironically no longer wanting to vomit. Or at least, not vomit in that toilet in particular. He stepped out of the bathroom quietly, ready to leave and forget he was ever there. And he was gonna, too. He really was, it was just-

He heard something. It was quiet, and soft, but definitely there. It kinda sounded like music. Like it was playing from a radio in one of the rooms that lined the hallway. He bit his lip. It sounded like it was coming from the room right next to him.

Thomas wasn’t a very impulsive person, never had been. So why, why on earth did he open the door? Why did he step inside over a stupid sound? Why did he think that was even vaguely a good idea? Opening a closed door, at Hamilton’s house, after midnight, when everyone else had gone home.

He wasn’t very cautious either, but damn! That was a whole new level of stupid!

And, as this night was just begging to be a disaster, none other than Alexander Hamilton himself was sitting on the bed with his laptop when Thomas opened the door, the mystery music blasting from his phone.

Thomas cussed himself out inside his head, cause _of fucking course he’d be the one playing music, it’s his fucking apartment you dolt_. That took about five seconds, in which Hamilton stared at him in blank surprise. This made Thomas beyond nervous.

“Listen, I can explain, I thought this was the bathroom, I really didn’t mean to-” Thomas started to say, more jittery than usual. This was probably due to the fact of how late it was and who exactly he was talking to. For a second he couldn’t take his eyes away from the wings behind Alex, folded up and moving gently up and down with the rhythm of his breaths. Maybe that’s why he had such meekness in his voice.

Alexander just rolled his eyes, sighing quietly and rested his chin on his hand, as if he were bored, or possibly tired. “It’s alright. Are people still out there, or are you all there is?” He asked passively, gently closing his laptop and setting it to the side.

Thomas paused for a moment, tilting his head in confusion, just for a second. That was not what he expected Alex to say at all. “Uh.. yeah, just me, and I was about to leave, so…” He said, one foot moving backwards into the hall in an attempt to back away into the hall. However, Alex shook his head. Another thing Thomas didn’t expect.

“It’s like one AM or something, right?” Alexander asked, checking his phone. “Yeah, one thirty. You got a ride?”

Thomas shrugged. “I was just gonna get an Uber or something.”

Alex shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with one hand as he motioned for Thomas to come closer. He was tired, Thomas could tell. He didn’t have the same composure as he usually did, and the look in his eyes was different, almost… soft. “You don’t have to, y’know. It’s real late and you live at least a couple miles away, right?”

Now Thomas was _really_ confused. Not only was Alexander _not_ being horrendous towards him, he was being genuinely nice. That was certainly new. “Are you sure? Where would I even sleep?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms skeptically. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay- so so so far from that, actually. He just… wasn’t exactly sure why Hamilton was being nice.

“You could sleep on my- uh, on my couch...” Alex began to say, words sort of fizzling out at the end as he seemed to notice how reluctant Thomas looked to accept the offer. Had Hamilton actually forgotten that they weren’t exactly friends or something? Decided mortal enemy to offering him a place to sleep for the night didn’t seem like a very plausible sequence of events.

“But you don’t have to. Or need to, actually, I’m sure an uber would work fine, but if you don’t want to bother with that I’ve got a couch, so...” Alexander continued, tone changed entirely. He now sounded rather meek as he was saying it, not entirely convinced of his own words. A rare occurrence for the man, Thomas was sure.

Maybe it was because Hamilton was tired; at least that sounded more possible than him actually _softening_ towards Thomas. 

Thomas didn’t want to take too long making up his mind, after all, it was just an offer for a place to sleep. Not a sign of friendship, no hidden meaning, just Hamilton being a considerate person for once… however strange that was objectively. He sighed.  
“You know what? Sure. I don’t see why not.” He answered finally, chuckling a bit dryly to himself.

It might’ve just been a trick of the light, but Thomas was sure he caught Alex’s eyes light up for a second there. Whatever.

“Great! Wait- um, I mean, uh... cool. Cool, right.” Alex responded clumsily, chuckling weakly like Thomas had. Yeah, the man was definitely tired. Hamilton got up from the bed, wings fluttering gently as he moved past Thomas towards a door on the other side of the hall, which turned out to be a closet filled with blankets and towels. Surprisingly organised considering who owned them. He grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the closet, handing them to Thomas.

Thomas accepted the blankets he was tossed, too tired to actually acknowledge how weird the situation was in that moment. “Thanks, this is… nice of you.” he said, pausing for a second as he thought of something to say that wouldn’t make him seem _too_ friendly, you know? Accepting the offer was already cutting it close.

Alexander shrugged, nodding. “No problem. You can, you know, go set yourself up on the couch. I’ll be in my room, don’t bug me.” he replied, starting to walk back towards his room as he finished the sentence, going in and closing the door behind him.  
Thomas almost scoffed when the door closed. He guessed Hamilton had also gotten the memo on not being too nice.

But… I mean, what was he to expect, right? It’s not like Thomas was making an effort to be pleasant towards Alexander. The opposite, actually, so why should he be treated any different?

Thomas groaned quietly in dismay. He was annoyed with himself, with Alex, with the whole occurrence. He shambled into the living room, plopping the pillow down on the couch and flopping down onto it himself shortly afterward, the blanket thrown over him lazily. 

And he went to sleep.

And he dreamt of Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter.  
> Jeff is angsty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow blocks up the roads, trapping almost everyone in the office. Thomas doubts he can spend an entire night in the office when Hamilton won't stop bothering him.

The weather was fickle in New York. Sometimes it would start to snow in October, and other times it seemed like all the snow was building up and finally released right in the middle of January. This was one of those times. 

"Well, looks like we're gonna have to get comfortable sleeping on the office floor," Angelica Schuyler joked, staring at the mountains of snow piling up outside the window.

Thomas didn't laugh, instead opting to stare grumpily at Hamilton, who was arguing _very_ loudly at a co-worker Thomas hadn't bothered to remember the name of. "It's not funny, Schuyler."

Angelica walked over to Thomas and seated herself on top of the coffee table near his desk. "What? If we're stuck here we might as well make some fun out of it."

"Who says we're stuck here?" He replied haughtily.

"The mounds of snow blocking the roads. Or are those just a mere annoyance to the all-powerful Jefferson?"

Suddenly a loud noise came from the doorway as someone walked in. Or rather, the someone _was_ the loud noise. Alexander was talking a mile a minute, most of it a angry rant directed towards the weather and the fact that the electricity had stopped working.

He looked like he was about to burst into flames, the ferocity in his tone. His wings flapped angrily, and they flared a deep orange like flame.

"Slow down, Alexander!" Angelica laughed. "We have all night to listen to your rantings. You don't need to compress it into 45 seconds".

Alexander started to pace back and forth, his hands on his hips. "The powers out, the roads are blocked, AND there's no phone signal!"

" _Oh_ _no_ , Hamilton has to spend an entire night in the same building as Jefferson! We're all doomed!" John Laurens said, laughing, as he waltzed into the room.

" _Laurens_ ," Thomas scowled, leaning against his desk. Why did Hamilton's friends always have to be so _annoying_? "Now is not the time."

"You're trying to tell me that? Charles Lee has a office next to me and he is _not_ happy."

"Please, Lee makes a fit whenever something slightly doesn't go his way. He used to be next to me before I got promoted." Angelica interjected, rolling her eyes.

Laurens chuckled, but didn't say anything else. Charles Lee wasn't exactly his favorite person. Thomas was pretty sure Laurens could have done a six-hour lecture on why Charles Lee was the absolute worst.

Meanwhile, Alexander had stopped pacing and had decided to sit down. He grabbed a piece of paper from the notepad on the table.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" Thomas yelped.

"I need to write something down. What if I forget what I want to say?"

"Hamilton....," Thomas grumbled. Why is his soulmate so insufferable? If he's got to have a soulmate they could at least have been _polite_!

He sighed, turning away from Hamilton. He folded his arms as Alexander ripped out the page from the notebook.

"Well, that settles that then." Angelica sighed, looking between the two. "I'm going back to my office before you two kill each other and I'm convicted with accessory to a crime."

"Same here." Waved Laurens, walking swiftly out the door.

That leaves Alex. And Thomas. Together. Alone.

_Oh no_.

***

It was an hour before things started to get out of hand.

It started with the foot tapping. The sky was growing dark, and the office staff was raiding the food supply.

Hamilton and Thomas decided o stay behind, not wanting to get caught in the swarm of dibs and half-assed insults of someone's mother.

Thomas wasn't hungry anyway.

Thomas was looking out the window, staring at the snow piling up on the streets and sidewalks.

That's when he heard the tapping. It was gentle at first. Could barely be heard.

Soon it progressed into what sounded like a giant woodpecker was trying very desperately to put a hole in the floor.

"Hamilton, if we're going to be stuck here all night I'd rather not have my ears bleed from that insufferable tapping."

Alexander turned swiftly to face Thomas. "Jefferson, if my foot tapping against the floor is enough to deter you, may I suggest you find a different profession?"

Thomas sighed, and his head in his hands. Everyone else was out of the room, probably all on the other side of the building. Maybe he could try and talk to Alexander... try and make him understand.

He was about to say something when he heard Hamilton quietly get up from his chair.

"What are you doing?" He said, his annoyed tone replaced by something else. He watched curiously as Alexander sat in the chair next to him, his eyes looking down.

"Do you ever just get tired of it?" Hamilton asked, looking out the window.

"Tired of what?"

Hamilton looked at the world of white out the window in front of them, his eyes tired and his mouth pinched into question thin line. "Of everything. Of all the things you're supposed to do. Supposed to be."

Thomas looked at him with a questioning expression. "This seems like a rather strange conversation to have with your self-proclaimed mortal enemy. Even for you, Hamilton."

Alexander's shoulders dropped, and Thomas noticed the pale, washed-out yellow his wings were. "Hey- Hamilton? Are you okay?"

He had deep lines under his eyes, which Thomas figured must be from a lack of sleep. 

"I'm fine."

Thomas was quiet for a minute. He didn't want to act like he cared about Hamilton- it would be too close to the truth. But.....well, he was worried.

"Hamilton, I've known you for about a year and though I wish I could erase you from my memory, I can at least tell when you're lying." Thomas said, trying very hard to keep a sour expression on his face.

" _Really?_ " Hamilton said, turning to look incredulously at him. "I find that hard to believe."

"Fuck you. I'm trying to be nice." 

"Yeah, well it's not working."

Thomas laughed, but his heart wasn't in it. He thought back to what Hamilton had said about being tired of it all. Maybe that's what Thomas felt.

"Seriously, man, are you ok? You look even more like shit than usual." Yeah, fit an insult in there. Got to sound realistic.

"I'm just tired is all, I guess." Hamilton sighed, looking down at the table. His eyes shifted to look up at Thomas, then quickly went back down.

Alexander asked Thomas something else, but Thomas was too deep in his own thoughts to really hear. He stayed quiet, looking out the window.

"Jefferson?"

"Mhm?"

"Remember that time I came over to your house a few months ago? We worked on our essays?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow, but answered anyway. "Yeah,"

Alexander fiddled with his watch, his face set in concentration. 

"Why did you act so weird when I asked you if you met your soul mate?"

Thomas drew in a breath. A pit formed in his stomach, but he was smart enough to not show it.

"I don't know.."

"Really Jefferson? That the best you can do?"

"I don't know, Hamilton! Why did you get so defensive when I asked about yours!" He blurted, not thinking.

Hamilton looked down, silent. 

Thomas got up from his seat and pushed in his chair, making a scraping sound on the floor.

"Jefferson..."

"You know, my home isn't that far. I think I can walk it." Thomas sighed, his eyes tired. 

"Wait-"

"Have a good night, Hamilton."

***

Thomas flung off his snow-covered coat when he stepped into the hall of his house. He'd walked two miles in this God-forsaken storm all because of his stupid _feelings_.

He tried not to let the water from his soaked clothes ruin his wood floor as he stepped into the bathroom. He planned to take a shower and then sleep for the next hundred years.

He turned on the shower, waiting for it to get warm. He carefully pulled off his soaked clothes and let them fall to the floor, his bones aching with fatigue.

Was it worth it?

The warm water washed over his face, and he finally felt relaxed. He shuddered when he felt his wings fan out. It was slightly startling.

Thomas had always sort of felt what his wings felt, but never this clearly. Whenever he tried to look at his wings in the past, it had always just looked like a haze had sprouted from his back. He noticed how more awake his wings had been feeling lately. Less foggy.

He attempted to spread out his wings, trying to see them. At first, he couldn't see anything but the haze, but then a soft pink tint started to spread over the hazy forms. They proceeded to materialize until he was staring at a pair of rich magenta wings.

He flapped them a little, their feathery forms much too large for the small shower. It shocked him to realize this was the first time he'd ever seen his wings. At least, really seen them.

He quickly turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. His breath more rapid than normal, he stood in the haze the steam from the shower had caused.

Thomas wrapped a towel around his lower body and stepped out of the bathroom. The world seemed a lot different with the pair of wings glistening on his back.

He dried himself off some more before going to sit on the couch, his head in a buzz. His wings fluttered softly, resting when he sat quietly on the couch cushion.

What had happened to make his wings visible to him? Why hadn't he noticed it earlier? What did it mean?

He was so wrapped up in his own confusion he almost didn't hear the doorbell ring.

What the? Thomas wrapped the towel more tightly around him and grumbled as he went to answer the door.

Who the hell would want to come over in this weather?

He could feel the chill of the snow outside, and his warm wings wrapped around him giving his shoulders closure from the cold.

Thomas opened the door a crack, expecting to see a neighbor or someone else who lived nearby.

It was an utter shock when he saw the shivering form huddled outside his door, wrapped in a jacket that was way too thin for this weather.

“Alexander?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a pretty short chapter, and I'm trying guys, I'm really trying. I'm hoping to get in a few long chapters soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander (despite himself) has decided to apologize like a civilized human being.

“The fuck are you doing here?!”

“That's a nice welcome for someone who just walked two miles in the snow.” Hamilton joked, but it was clear from the shivering that he needed warm clothes, asap.

Thomas sighed, but opened the door wide enough for Hamilton to slip in. “Come in.”

Alexander hurried into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. His breath was labored and his shoulders wouldn't stop shaking.

“Are you ok?”

Hamilton shuddered, but a raspy laugh managed to get past his lips. “Yeah, of course! Two miles in the snow? Pfff, piece of cake!”

Thomas laughed, blushing a little. Alexander Hamilton. Standing in the middle of his living room. And Thomas…..Thomas was wearing only a towel.

“Yeah,”

Hamilton sat on the couch, rubbing his shoulders. He looked around the room for a second before he eyed Thomas’s towel.

“Just come out of the shower?”

Thomas’s wings fluttered, a bright pink overtaking them. “On a more relevant matter, why are you in my house?”

Hamilton shivered, and for the first time Thomas noticed how blue his lips were, and how he looked like he was about to pass out.

“I, uh...I don't know. Walking here seemed to be a superior option than sleeping on the office floor while Lee and John have a fist fight two feet away from me.”

"How wise of you."

Hamilton’s eyes seemed to droop, and his wings were limp on his back.

“Hey! Hamilton? You okay?”

Alexander slumped against the couch cushion, and Thomas rushed to his side. “Hamilton?”

He put his hand to Alexander’s forehead and immediately pulled away, the icy touch of his skin surprising him.

He choked out a gasp, and he rushed to make sure Alex’s heartbeat was stable.

“Alexander? Please wake up, please!”

A small murmur came from the man’s mouth, and Thomas relaxed a little. Just a little.

“Listen, Hamilton...you are unconscious, and I don't want you to die of hypothermia, contrary to popular belief.”

He shifted Alexander into a sitting position. “I'm gonna have to change you into some warm clothes, ok?”

Hamilton mumbled something, but it sounded like gibberish. “I'll take that as a yes.”

Thomas wrapped Hamilton up in a warm blanket before going to fetch some clothes. He found a sweatshirt and some pants and rushed back into his living room.

Thomas then realized he was still only wearing a towel.

He ran back into his room and slipped into some sweatpants before going back to Alexander.

The small man had fallen onto the floor, the blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon.

Thomas stopped walking when he saw the mass of blankets move. “Hamilton?”

“Jefferson?” A weak voice answered.

“Oh thank god, you're alive!”

“What happened?” Hamilton croaked, and as Thomas approached it was clear he was far from ok.

“You passed out for a few minutes. I think walking in the snow with only hoodie might not have been the smartest decision.”

“How did I get in these blankets?”

Thomas rolled his eyes before saying “I wrapped them around you. I got you some clothes in case that flimsy jacket of yours is a bit cold.”

Alexander looked questioningly at the clothes when Thomas lay them next to him on the floor. “Awfully nice of you.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “If you die I might have to do paperwork. I hate paperwork.”

Hamilton coughed. “Fair enough.”

“Now that you're all nice and settled, would you mind me asking why you're in my house?”

Hamilton got up from the floor, moving the blankets to the couch. “You stormed off, and if you died in this blasted storm because of me- well, you know, paperwork.”

“Maybe you should have stayed.”

Alexander looked confused, and his wings ruffled.

Thomas put his hand to Hamilton’s forehead, and quickly pulled it back. “You need to take a warm shower, and then put on some dry clothes. _Now_.”

Alexander looked down, his cheeks flushed like he was embarrassed.

Thomas stood up, a determined look on his face. His brow scrunched up, and he nearly picked Hamilton up by the collar of his hoodie. “I'm not having you die in my living room. Swallow your pride, and get in the fucking shower.”

“Alright, alright! Jeez!” Once Thomas let him go Alexander backed up, his wings arched defensively.

He scrambled into the bathroom, closing the door loudly behind him. Thomas sat down on the couch, rubbing his head.  _Jesus Christ, Alexander_.

***

Thomas paced back and forth, everything that had happened that day washing over him.

Alexander Hamilton was in his house, taking a shower in his bathroom, and once he was out of the shower he was going to change into his clothes. Thomas groaned and rubbed his head. This was too much. Way too much. 

He looked around at the familiarity of his house, wondering what Alexander saw. The pale orange the walls were, the way the dark wood of the floor was warped slightly from years and years of people. The little figurines on the bookshelf. 

Suddenly he felt naked, like every tiny secret he ever hid was in plain view, begging for Alexander to see. The picture of Thomas as a small child hanging on the wall, his computer just sitting on the counter. All of his secrets.

Thomas didn't understand it! Alexander had been here before! Nothing had changed since then. Nothing had changed, right?

He sighed. What had he done to get into this mess?

He heard the bathroom door opening, and he swiftly turned around. Alexander stood there, his hair dripping. Although pants were a bit baggy considering the height difference, Alexander looked alright in Thomas's clothes.

"Nice conditioner."

Thomas almost burst out laughing. He snorted loudly and he had to cover his mouth to keep from giggling.

"What?" Alexander asked, a confused and almost angry look on his face. Thomas had noticed within the first few months of knowing him that when Alexander didn't know what was going on he would put on a defensive front. It almost made him want to laugh louder.

"Its just a weird thing to say."

Alexander sputtered. "You're a weird thing to say!"

That was it. Thomas doubled over laughing. It was so interesting how although Alexander was a genius when it came to words, his brain seemed to pull up a blank whenever it came to defending himself.

"You know what I meant!" Alexander sniffed, sitting down on the couch roughly.

Thomas wiped a tear from his eye, still giggling. "I'm sorry, it's just-" he started laughing again. 

Alexander huffed and turned sharply away from him. "Ok, ok, fine. I'm sorry." Thomas conceded, sitting down on the couch next to him. 

Alexander looked at him, a hint of surprise in the arch of his eyebrows. "Never thought I'd hear Thomas Jefferson say sorry."

"And why is that?"

"Didn't think it was in your vocabulary."

Ah, back to the arguing. Good. Hopefully the subject wouldn't turn sour like back at the office.

***

Alex and Thomas were seated opposite from each other on Thomas's living room floor in silence. 

They had yelled at each other so much during their talk that Thomas had to remove himself from the conversation and go make some tea just so he wouldn't lose his voice. When he got back Alexander was sitting cross-legged on his floor, and no one had said anything for several minutes.

Alexander sniffed slightly as Thomas sipped from his mug. Thomas turned swiftly to look at him. 

"You want tea?"

"As long as it's not the fancy-ass imported straight from the gutters of France kind that you're drinking,"

Thomas turned away and sipped his tea again. "I guess that's a no then."

Alexander's eyes widened and he started to stare angrily at Thomas's tea.

Thomas shifted his position on the floor, closer to Alexander.

"If you want it, go get it yourself." Thomas stated plainly. I'm not your maid and you're not my guest."

"Fine. Sorry I walked through a storm to apologize to you, asshole."

Alexander got up and walked quickly from the room, his wings glowing a darker hue than normal. They flapped behind him in a angry buzz.

***

_God_ pink is such an alluring color.

Alexander could have handled anything but pink. Of course Thomas Jefferson's wings are pink.

Even if he hadn't been able to see them he would be able to tell. The man is like a giant spotlight.

The moment Alex first saw Thomas he knew he was in for it. Jefferson had walked in like he owned the world. He would've kissed him right then and there if he hadn't doubted himself. If he hadn't wondered if Thomas could see his wings. 

He had always figured he didn't have a soulmate. Who would ever even think of sharing their life with Alexander? Life seemed to go by in a hazy blur for him, and people never did stay long.

He'd sleep around sometimes, trying to feel something that he was sure he'd never feel. It all just kind of...stopped when Thomas walked through that door the year before.

He slept more, stopped eating only one meal a day, and he actually felt happier than he had in years. Thomas's beautiful pink wings promised the future Alexander had always hoped he'd get the chance to have. 

Standing in his soulmate's kitchen, stirring a cup of mint tea, it all felt sort of unreal. 

***

At around 12:30 AM Thomas woke up on his living room floor, Alexander Hamilton snoring about two feet away.

The dim light cast from the street lamps outside gave the room an unnatural look to it. He shifted his position on the floor, squinting at the dark shapes that were all he could see at the moment.

Once his eyes adjusted, he saw Alexander's sleeping face. The man was swaddled in a mountain of blankets, and Jefferson could vaguely remember wrapping him in them. Thomas had been too tired to climb onto the couch, so just plopped down on the floor.

He swiped at his face, trying to rub the tired away. His eyes swept the room, finally landing on Alexander's sleeping form. Even wrapped in blankets, the floor is a uncomfortable place to sleep.

He carefully picked up the smaller man, making sure the blankets stayed wrapped around him. Alexander mumbled in his sleep, something about taxes.

"Oh, Alexander." Thomas quietly laughed. He carried the man into his bedroom and plopped him onto his bed. After making sure Alexander wouldn't roll off it by accident, he returned to the living room.

The sofa was a O.K. place to sleep, and he didn't mind all that much. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, you guys have been so nice! Thank you! It means so much that you like it! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Alexander woke up in a strange bed with a horrible headache, and for a few alarming seconds he thought he had been kidnapped.

The blankets were soft, almost silky, and that was far too nice for a kidnapping. The room was painted a milky beige color, and the warm light coming from behind the closed curtains made it look like one of those generic adds for bed sheets.

So, decidedly this was not a kidnapper's hide out.

He definitely hadn't slept over at John's again, thankfully, as that was a habit he was trying to break. Lafayette had left for France a week ago. Herc would have a fit over those curtains. He and Aaron were fighting again, so it wasn't his apartment. 

As he tried to think of who's apartment this could be, he slowly remembered the night before.

He remembered feeling really awful about what happened with Jefferson, and at the time, walking through two miles of snow didn't seem that bad. He remembered being so so so cold, his body wanted to shut down. Lay down and never wake up kind of deal. He remembered being wrapped in something warm and soft, and a warm gravelly voice saying something to him. He remembered soft brown eyes and mint tea and warm blankets. He remembered pink wings.

This was Jefferson's bed.

First things first, how did he get here? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on the couch, Jefferson passed out on the floor. Shouldn't he be lying on Jefferson's overly expensive rug?

He looked at the slightly open door, seeing just a peek of the hallway outside. It was clearly early in the morning, but that was usual for Alexander. He usually woke up hours before sun rise.

Alexander slowly crept out of the bed, and made his way through the strangely average-looking house to the living room. He'd been here before, so it wasn't that strange seeing it, but it still felt....weird.

Where were the velvet rugs and pillows with feathers imported from France? I mean, the first time he'd been here he assumed all the really fancy stuff was just in some other section of the house. But nope, surprisingly Jefferson's house was rather on the smallish side. Small for the one million-something dollars Jefferson had supposedly inherited.

Jefferson was asleep on the couch, snoring slightly. Thomas's eyelids fluttered a little, and the pink glow from his wings made him look almost ethereal in the low light. The southerner seemed weirdly peaceful in his sleep, a stark contrast from his annoying behavior when awake. I mean, Alex would have chosen his loud, annoying, arguing awake version over this quiet sleeping one, but it was pleasant for the moment.

Alexander carefully sat on the edge of the couch, making sure not to disturb Thomas's sleep. His pink wings fluttered a bit when Alex sat down, but he did not wake up. Alexander sighed in relief, as this would be a rather compromising position for him to be woken up to.

Alexander gently brushed Thomas's hair out of his face, tracing the curve of his hairline. The sleeping man murmured something incoherent, and Alexander smiled, chuckling slightly. God, this pompous asshole was cute.

He got up from the couch and grabbed his hoodie at the door. He slipped on the slightly damp jacket and walked out the door, trying not to make a sound as he closed it quietly behind him.

***

Thomas shot up from the couch, his breath ragged and his face sweaty. Maybe he'd had a bad dream. The curtains were drawn, and the room was cast in dark shadows, the only light an orange gold that seeped through the shades. It must have been late afternoon. _Crap._

Rubbing his eyes, he looked around the room. No Alexander.

He clumsily got up from the couch, his wild hair blocking most of his vision. If it really was late afternoon, Alexander probably would have left hours ago. Thomas hated waking up late, but his sleep schedule was so all over the place that it was impossible to tell when he'd wake up.

He stumbled over to the dining room table, finding a note scribbled in messy writing. "Thanks for the clothes."

Thomas laughed out loud, a smile sneaking onto his face. He slapped his hand to his face, still giggling. He didn't know why he was laughing, it wasn't particularly funny. But at the moment it seemed hilarious. Hilarious how Hamilton had showed up in the middle of the night, soaked to the bone. Hilarious how his wings fluttered whenever Thomas leaned close to him. Hilarious, at the moment, was the perfect word to describe his emotion.

He sat down at the table, leaning back in a chair. A giant grin was glued to his face. 

Thomas pulled out his laptop, placing it gently on the table. Didn't really have anything to do, so he spent a couple of minutes scrolling through social media. That quickly became boring so he turned the computer off.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock seemed to move with the same ambition as a slug, and Thomas wasn't in the mood to be bored. There was nothing to do, really, in his house. He'd cleared it out after a particularly nasty relationship the year before, and it was very much like a blank slate.

Thomas tapped a erratic beat on the table's smooth wood. His wings spread out behind him, flapping as if they were struggling to stay awake.

He turned on his phone, checking for new messages. How many minutes had it been since he'd sat down? 40? 35? He checked the time. It'd been 11 minutes.

He groaned, about to put his phone back when it buzzed in his hand. "The fuck is this?" 

The screen read the word Hamilton in big white letters. Maybe he shouldn't let him know he's in his contacts. He cleared his throat before pressing the 'answer' button. "Hello, who is this?"

"You don't have my number in your phone?"

"Alexander?" Thomas asked, not used to hearing him sound genuinely hurt.

"No shit, Sherlock."

Thomas scoffed. "What do you want?" He tried not to sound too annoyed, because honestly he was glad to have something to take his mind off the crushing boredom.

The audio made scraping sound, like the phone had dropped, followed by a very loud "SHIT!". Thomas suppressed a laugh before asking if Alexander was okay.

"I'm fine, but my phone case has a big scratch on it now." Alexander audibly groaned.

"You were saying?"

"Wha- oh yeah, right!" Alexander exclaimed. "I was wondering if you'd like to go with my and the crew to this karaoke club later? It's super fun and-"

"Did you just un-ironically call you and your friends 'the crew'?"

"Oh, fuck you! I'm trying to be nice, asshole!"

"Fine, fine." Thomas surrendered. "Where's the club?"

"On the corner of Smith and Shelly. Can't miss it, it's got a giant neon sign on the roof."

Thomas laughed. "Sounds fun." He said sarcastically.

"No, really! You should come, I swear on my life it'll be fun."

"I'll go, but I'm not going to have fun." Thomas grumbled.

Alexander laughed, a clear and happy sound.

"We'll see about that!"

***

Thomas pulled up to the curb, a block away from the club. As he neared the building, he could clearly see Alexander and the "crew" hanging around outside. He brushed some lint off his long sleeved black shirt, walking towards the small group.

As promised, a giant green and yellow neon sign stood high up on the roof to the building. "Reynolds Karaoke" Thomads said to himself. "Reynolds...Reynolds... I've heard that name before."

Just as he was trying to figure out who the name belonged to, Alexander ran up to him, looking like he was about to jump from excitement. 

He stopped short of Thomas, collecting himself. He slowed to a mild walk before reaching Thomas. "You came." Alexander said quietly, but his happy tone betrayed him.

"Nothing better to do." Thomas said, almost defensively. His wings arched behind him, the feathers bristling. Alex laughed, punching him in the arm.

"I know! You literally have nothing in your house! Do you even _own_ a TV?"

Thomas was about to respond when Hercules walked up behind Alexander. He looked rather grumpy, which was strange considering his usual attitude was a just a bit different.

"I'm designated driver again." Hercules grumbled, staring down at the grimy sidewalk.

"That's what you get for being the dad friend, dude. Besides, you both need to stay sober for what Laf's planning for you tonight." Alex joked.

Hercules blushed before punching him in the arm. "Shut up."

Alexander and his friends seemed to punch each other in the arm a lot. Thomas guessed that it was a sign of endearment. 

Besides the other sign of endearment which is joking about your friends sex life, apparently.

Thomas interrupted the two men, a question still bothering him. "Isn't Reynolds the name of that girl Angelica's been bringing 'round the ofafice lately? What's her name.....uh....Maria! Yeah, it's Maria, right?"

Alex looked up at the neon sign, his expression changing into one of a question. "Yeah, I think so.... Hey, Herc, you know who owns this place?"

Hercules looked up from the ground, his eyes travelling to the sign as well. "Yeah, I think James Reynolds does. Used to be Reynolds' and Sons shoe store before James inherited it."

There was a awkward silence for a moment, no one really knowing what to say. Alex broke it by mentioning that they should go join Lafayette and Laurens inside the club.

"Good idea." Thomas said, following Hercules and Alexander into the building.

***

Loud music blasted from various speakers around the room, and the room was filled with people dancing. A stage was placed at the font of the room, big enough for at least two or three people to dance around on. Or sing.

Hercules spotted Lafayette and Laurens at a table near the stage, which was pretty easy since John was waving at them like a crazed lunatic. Alexander, of course, ran up to greet them immediately, complete with hugs and a few cheek kisses for Lafayette.

"Mon ami!" Lafayette exclaimed when they saw Thomas. "What are you doing here?"

"Alexander invited me." Thomas mumbled, blushing slightly. He rubbed his arm uncomfortably. Lafayette and his relationship was complicated- they'd met in Paris years before, just after Thomas had graduated from college. Neither of them felt like they'd ever meet their soulmates, so hey, why not have a fling. It was the first time Thomas realised he liked people that weren't girls.

Lafayette laughed before walking over to Herc to talk about....something. Laurens looked suspiciously at Alex and Thomas, but said nothing. Thomas just stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do or say. He didn't know how to act around Alexander's friends. What was he even doing here? It stupid, it's just stupi-

"Hey," Alexander's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Wanna dance with me?"

Thomas coughed. "What?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "You. Me. Dance?"

Thomas looked at Alexander, unsure. "Really?"

Alexander nodded, and without a second thought, pulled Thomas onto the dance floor. Thomas sputtered, but didn't protest. He grabbed Alex's hand.

The song ended and a new song started to play just as Thomas spotted a familiar face. "Angelica?"

Angelica Schuyler was dressed in a pastel pink dress, complete with pink high heels. Her curly hair was put up in a bun, and she looked insanely pretty. Standing next to her was a woman in a blood red dress, her makeup the same shade. Thomas knew in an instant who she was.

"Maria Reynolds." 

The woman looked at him strangely, but nodded. Her dark curly hair rolled over her shoulders, and her striking appearance made Thomas wonder why he absent noticed her before. "Doesn't your husband own this place?"

Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. Angelica appeared to have grabbed Maria's arm after mention of James Reynolds.

"Hey," Alex said softly "Maria? Are you ok?"

Thomas wondered why he asked that until he noticed the dark trail of bruises that were poorly hid by Maria's hair.

Maria opened her mouth to speak but Angelica grabbed her arm gently, a subtle signal that it wasn't wise to say whatever it was she was about to say. "She's fine." She said flatly, her tone pointedly indicating the conversation was over.

Alexander made a quiet noise of protest, but didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled Thomas over to a corner.

"I think something's up. That woman's got a bunch of bruises and it looks real bad." Alex paused for a second, looking down. When he looked back up his eyes looked angry. "What should we do?"

"We?"

"Yeah, 'we'. You're not gonna leave me to deal with this alone are you, because that would be a dick move."

Thomas was about to protest to this accusation, but faltered, rethinking this decision. He grabbed Alexander by the shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. "Listen, Hamilton, we need to think about this carefully. What if we're jumping to conclusions-"

Alexander cut him off. "Jumping to conclusions? Really? You would charge a guy for murder if he looked at you funny."

"I think that's an exaggeration." 

"Jefferson, we have to do something! What if her husband is beating her? We have to help."

Thomas sighed, but nodded his head. "Alright. Want me to rally the guys? If this Reynolds guy really is abusing her we might need backup. Besides, are we sure it's safe for her? What if she has nowhere to go, what if he hurts her?"

Alexander paused, thinking for a minute. "We have to talk to Maria. Find out the best way to help her."

"Now there's a plan I can get behind."

***

They found Maria sitting alone at a booth in the corner, a can of root beer sitting in front of her.

She turned to look at them, but when she saw their faces she quickly looked down.

"Root beer?" Thomas asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't drink." Maria said quietly, not looking them in the eye.

Thomas leaned down to look at her face to face. Maria glanced at him, her face turning cold. "Listen, Maria, we saw the bruises. Is your husband hurting you in any way?" Thomas asked, his tone gentle and calm.

Maria turned to look up at him, or eyes wide with something that looked very much like fear. "You can't tell anyone." She whispered, more to herself than to them.

"Why? What would he do if we told?" Alex asked, his tone more urgent than necessary.

Maria shrank back. She looked down at her root beer again, fiddling with the opener. "Just- just please don't tell anyone, ok? I'll be all right."

"We just want to help-" Alexander reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away.

"I have to go," Maria got up from the booth, pushing past Alexander into the swarm of dancers.

Knowing he'd go after her. Thomas tugged at Alexander's sleeve, signaling that it was time to leave. 

Alexander nodded, following him back to their table. Thomas sat down, but Alex stood, tapping his foot anxiously.

"That was... bad."

Thomas nodded solemnly. "No kidding."

Thomas tried to ignore the bad feeling this club was starting to give him. Just... the feeling of the place made him uneasy. The bright yellow of the seats had dulled into a dingy mustard color. The excessive amount of fluorescent lights. It made him kind of queasy. And now with the Maria thing. Argh, coming here was a mistake.

Thomas was just about to attempt to leave when Alex grabbed him by the shoulder. "Wanna get out of here? I know a good all-night coffee shop near here , and to be honest this place is giving me the creeps."

Thomas nodded, laughing slightly. "I thought you'd never ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short chapter, but it was mostly filler and some minor plot-points. the next one is going to be a really long one, and I'm going to have more time to work on it because of the winter vacation coming up soon. Thank you for all the lovely comments, it really means a lot! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just an author's note and me apologizing for not updating, sorry

Hey! I'm really really sorry for not updating in so long.

I've decided to rewrite all of the chapters so far, just edit and add a few things so I can make a stronger story. Some plot points may or may not change, so I would suggest rereading them if you want to continue reading this fic. Sorry for the lack of updates, I was hit by a major writers block and have since decided that the solution is to rewrite everything so far.

Again, super sorry! Hope you can forgive me, and hope you enjoy the redone version!

\- Thanks, Me


	7. I updated chapter 1

I updated chapter 1, just thought I'd let you guys know.

I'd really appreciate feedback on this, it'll tell me wether to continue this or not! 

Thanks for reading!


	8. im still rewriting guys!! Patience holy heck

Sorry I didn't update for a couple months, lot of you guys probably forgot this existed lmao  
I'm still rewriting, and my job makes it more difficult to take time away to write, but I'm still working through   
I'm not really in the Hamilton fandom much anymore because of a lot of issues with racism in-fandom, but I haven't forgotten this  
Anyway,  
The second chapter has been rewritten and updated!

By the way, if you guys want to leave comments leave them on a different chapter because I'm going to delete all the author's notes once I'm done updating  
Thank you so much for your patience, I haven't forgotten this <3


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